district of coolumbia.

Since I am now, officially, moving back to Washington DC this fall for grad school (against my instincts, but not my better judgment) I've started thinking -- could it be possible for me to be cool in DC? Having never been cool, not in my entire life, I see not much reason to hope, but still, it feels like it might be possible. (Last time I lived in DC, I was in high school, which immediately disqualified me.) You see, living in Brooklyn, I am hopelessly uncool. I am much too poor and much too conventional; I haven't written a novel, I'm not in a band, I don't make jewelry in my spare time and sell it on etsy, and more importantly, I don't aspire to do any of these things -- in short, I am not a hipster, not even close.

In DC, though, there are no hipsters. I went searching for them, when I was there a couple weeks ago, and despite what others may think, I found no evidence that they exist. Perhaps I was looking in the wrong places but, even if there is a small enclave of hipsterdom in DC, it is only just managing to survive in an inhospitable climate. (I'm honestly intrigued by this -- why are there so many hipsters in New York, and Chicago, but none in DC? Please investigate, sociologists.) So, where there are no hipsters, would it be possible for me to be cool or, at least, cool by comparison? Will you at least be unable, from a distance, to tell that I am hopelessly dorky? In DC I will still be poor, but in a glamorous, starving intellectual kind of way, and in comparison to everyone else, I could be downright unconventional. (I read philosophy! I listen to obscure bands! I shop at flea markets!) This seems promising.

The real question is, though: will there be anyone around to appreciate my new coolness? Or perhaps the equivalent of the hipster in DC is a twenty-four year old presidential speechwriter? Do the hordes of White House, World Bank, and Congressional minions occupy the same space in DC that aspiring writers and artists occupy in New York? I think they might, and if they do, I doubt they will consider me interesting, much less cool. Sigh. I won't get my hopes up.

That said, who wants to rent me a very reasonably priced one bedroom apartment in Dupont? And who wants to discuss Spinoza with me? Or help me re-learn Italian? Sigh. Again, I won't get my hopes up.

federal bureau of insouciance.

I met the FBI today. Like, seriously. They came to Park Slope, flashed some badges, and then pestered me with questions about the trustworthiness and illegal proclivities of an old friend while I attempted to drink a latte. (This particular old friend happens to work at the White House, hence the need for character references and a security clearance.) My FBI agents were, as you'd expect, dressed in cheap suits and sporting buzz cuts. They had never been to Brooklyn before, and I must say, they did not blend in with the natives. Undercover agents, they were not.

Anyway, when the whole interview was over, I was really relieved that the FBI dudes hadn't asked any questions about my life. Had they asked what I'd been doing for the past 3 months, they may have taken me in for further questioning. I haven't even filed my tax return yet! Damn government bureaucracy. It's, like, such a pain.